


Bombarda

by drippingwithsin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drippingwithsin/pseuds/drippingwithsin
Summary: Hermione just wanted one night of peace at her favourite pub, but has there ever really been any peace for a golden girl?
Relationships: Millicent Bulstrode/Hermione Granger
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The books really don't give much details on looks for Millicent so I for some reason pictured Pamela Rabe..... Just blame me binge watching Wentworth during this horrible quarantine. Also reading the fics. Check out which fic inspired me if it's your cup of tea.

Multiple arrays of burning candles cast a warm glow over the pub, cigar smoke wafts around the patrons perfuming the entire area in a sweet acidic cloud. There’s something in the air tonight; something dark, heady and seductive. An unwavering hum of magic prickles Hermione’s honeyed curls, calling forth her own. They mingle in silence whispering and hissing sweet nothings within her ear. Goosepimples break out along Hermione’s skin and her wand hand tingles. She inhales. All around her, lovers and friends chat amongst themselves exchanging kisses and sharing bouts of laughter. 

_Love is in the air tonight._

A snort.

_More like lust._

Hermione takes a dainty sip of her regretfully ordered stout concoction and idly whirls her fingers over the lamented surface of the bar. Her freckled shoulders are nearly bare tonight, golden skin seemingly aglow in the dim lighting contrasts beautifully against the skimpy red straps clinging to them desperately. Breasts free from their confinement sway provocatively with each movement, coral nipples unhindered by anything harden against the delicious scrape of the material. 

The dress itself is not an overly racy one. Simple, crimson and cut to where the fabric drapes artfully over her shapely legs; it has a look that says, ‘You can look, but you can’t touch’. It feels amazing yet heart palpitatingly brazen. Naughty. Especially in a place like this. Where even the sight of the golden girl causes a bit of a stir.

From across the bar, Madam Hooch or Ro as she likes to go by these days catches Hermione’s eye and shoots her a cheeky wink. Retired from Hogwarts more than a few traditionalists were surprised(completely appalled) by the woman when she boldly announced the grand opening of her newly distinguished sapphic pub, ‘The Bombarda’(when questioned later by a certain tacky noisy little bug Ro simply replied with a ‘BOOM).

The lesbian elite practically rejoiced to the heavens at the news. Finally, finally...they’ll have somewhere to go.

Oh, there were other underground clubs and tawdry little hot spots. But this one unlike the rest catered to an older higher society group. Those who wanted to socialize without all the ear-piercing music and utter young chaos. 

Hermione herself first came in here a few years ago. All doe-eyed and dressed in mother’s finest muggle wear. Honestly, one stomp her way and she’d probably still be hiding in the hills somewhere. To this day, embarrassment still spiders up her neck just thinking about it.

Now, things have changed. She has changed.

From the far corner of the bar, the lioness feels eyes fixate upon her. She discreetly glances over and spots her. A good head taller than the rest of the patrons occupying the bar, the admirer stands out rather handsomely in a fitted dark power suit. Their eyes shadowed in the dim lighting smouldering over a tumbler of sparkling amber liquid. They looked hungry. 

_Well,_

A flutter of excitement erupts in her belly.

Smiling to herself, Hermione motions for another Bulgarian Dragon, not bothering to switch for a milder drink. She purposely puts herself on display by exaggerating her movements, letting her cleavage dip enticingly when she reaches for her fresh drink. It's a tart move. One she’ll never even think to attempt without the dragon’s intoxicating flame surging through her veins. 

Movement just ahead ensnares her attention. Hermione glances at the newly appeared wineglass and raises a brow. 

“Seems you got yourself an admirer tonight.” Ro remarks with a chuckle and before Hermione can ask who someone signals for the older woman’s attention.

Hermione hesitantly takes a sip and is pleasantly surprised when a nearly foreign albeit familiar taste washes over her tongue. Muggle wine. Ro really did cater to all. She takes a more generous mouthful and sighs blissfully. 

_God, it’s been ages._

The bliss, however, is short-lived when an unwelcome presence rudely inserts herself beside Hermione and leans cock-surely against the bar. 

Frayed sable hair highlighted with flaxen streaks brush the top of muscular shoulders clad in a worn leather jacket. The woman honestly wasn’t horrid looking. In fact, she was quite attractive. In a bad girl kind of way that is. 

_Yet_

Her attitude and just sheer audacity all but hurls a proverbial monkey wrench into the entire illusion making Hermione's stomach turn and churn unpleasantly. She’s dealt with this sort before and more times than she’ll ever care to admit(being the brains of the golden trio has its drawbacks, after all).

Still, Hermione wishes just for one night of peace. 

Slimy smile in place, the predator runs her wolfish gaze over Hermione’s body; lingering on her cleavage longer than what any decent person will deem appropriate. 

“Buy you a drink, girly?” Calloused fingers scratch along Hermione’s bicep in a move that was supposed to be seductive but only made her want to bathe(repeatedly). 

“No, thank you.” Hermione shudders and attempts to shrug off the offending digits only to have them grasp ahold of her arm. 

“Now that’s not very polite, is it?” The jaws of the wolf sink in deeper. Enough to warn without spilling blood. “When someone offers you a drink you’re supposed to take it, yeah? Or does the golden girl think she's too good for the likes of us common folk?”

The tone and acknowledgement meant to intimidate and scare if she were a lesser being. 

But this quarry is no doe. Hermione’s inner lioness roars. She absentmindedly reaches for her wand only to remember she left it at the door.

_Bugger Hooch’s no wand policy._

Hermione readies herself to either throw the eighty proof drink in the woman’s face or shout for Ro when a larger hand lands upon the offensive one, prying it away with ease. 

“I _believe_ the lady asked to be left alone.” A tone like ice and honey slides down their spines. Both heads snap to attention.

Tall, broad but with defined feminine curves; the woman in the three-piece suit stands before them a formidable sight indeed. Her long raven hair slicked back into a neat ponytail exposes a handsome oval face outlined with dark features, pale skin and burgundy lips. All of which remain unwaveringly passive yet somehow radiates displeasure. 

Yes, the devil has arrived and she isn’t happy.


	2. Chapter 2

Abyssal eyes peer down at the offender from towering heights. The hellish glow from the candles combined with the shadows making them appear like two smouldering coals. She cocks her head.

“Or are you too stupid to comprehend that?”

“Oi, piss off. We’re busy here, eh.” The offender spouts off with foolish bravado turning back to Hermione.

The grip on the woman’s hand tightens until Hermione herself can just make out the subtle popping and grinding of bone against bone. A pained hiss followed by a string of swears.

“Care to repeat that?”

“No.” Comes through gritted teeth.

“Good girl. Now run along.” The gentlewoman lets go and the other slinks off with her tail tucked firmly between her legs and only when she’s completely out of sight does the woman turn back to Hermione 

“Are you alright?” She questions, her handsome face soft with concern as she runs a cursory scan over Hermione’s person. 

Lightly tanned cheeks colour at the appraisal.“Yes, thank you.”

“May I?” An ebony head inclines to the empty stool adjacent to Hermione.

Excitement swells in Hermione’s chest and she nearly shouts a ‘yes’. Instead(thankfully) she catches herself. Giving a polite nod and smile.

Fluffing out her coat tail, the woman lowers herself regally upon the stool and nearly causes Hermione to swoon when a wave of her intoxicating cologne washes over all senses. 

"Care for another?" She questions, gesturing just ahead of the honey haired woman.

Hermione pries her eyes away from the deep dark ones intend on dragging hers in and looks to where they glanced to. The glass holds but a splash. A true testament of a long forgotten thirst which still has her taste buds tingling. As does the gigantic red lipstick ring glaring back at them.

Hermione flushes pink with a shot of embarrassment, clearing her throat. "Ye- yes, please."

A wave of the hand motions for the barmaid whom Hermione highly suspects Ro hired for more than just her skills at the bartending. Especially when the blonde comes all but bouncing over with tits the size of Hermione's head, pressing out against a silkily white button-down. 

She refills their glasses with a perky grin even as some sloshes over. "There you are, loves!" comes a chirp and she's off, short black shirt not swishing with each step. Ro truly has no shame. The horny ole bat. 

Hermione takes a sip first, sighing within the glass. 

“Do you like it? I wasn’t quite sure if I'd made the right choice before." The gentlewoman admits tone a bit sheepishly before she takes a healthy pull of her own. 

"You did. I haven't had wine-real muggle wine in ages. It was delicious." Hermione praises, savouring the lingering flavour. The smell, the taste reminds Hermione of simpler times with her mother who used to enjoy a glass after every dinner and occasionally let her a sip or two. 

"I'm glad," Then after a moment the other woman turns fully to Hermione, face alight with a bit of sly cheek.“Well, Granger seems you’re still prone to getting into trouble.” 

Chestnut brows furrow as chocolate eyes narrow at the woman curiously.“I’m sorry but do I know you?”

The stranger lets out a hearty chuckle. “I would give you a hint, but I’m afraid putting you in a headlock will only gain me one of your infamous right hooks.”

Hermione studies her pensively for a moment, raking over the features. She’s beautiful in the non-modern sense. In which nothing about her is even remotely dainty. At six feet tall with broad shoulders, a full-bodied frame and a set of legs which seem to go on forever she dwarfs Hermione’s petite one even sitting down. Yet, even with her Amazonian stature, there is no mistaking that she is all woman. 

A whole bloody hell of alot of woman, but a woman nonetheless. 

Hermione’s gaze darts back to the eyes. There’s something vaguely familiar about them. A distant memory. Strong arms restraining her from behind, the pink toad screeching in her face, cat hair. 

Oh. 

_Oh,_

Bovine eyes go wide.

“Millicent? Millicent Bulstrode?”

Burgundy lips curl into a patented Slytherin’s smirk. “Took you look enough, Granger.”


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh, oh wow, um you've um.."

"Changed?" A borderline salacious chuckle tumbles free from her lips unknowingly sending a shiver down Hermione. "I dearly hope so. It's been what? Six. Seven years since Hogwarts?"

Hermione does another quick scan. Long gone were the squinty eyes, mousy brown hair and toad-like chin. Not to mention the weight. She just didn't lose it, she grew into it.

_Wow_

"Seven, and yes-yes you have," Hermione mumbles the last part into her drink.

It doesn't go unheard.

The smirk grows. Turning into a full-on knowing grin.

It surprises Hermione, however, she has absolutely no desire to snap and sneer at her longtime bully even if Millicent is looking irritatingly smug at this point. They're older now. Wiser. This isn't Hogwarts. Times have changed.

Still, Hermione can not help but feel relieved when the look melts away into a curious one.

"So besides having a drink on fem night. What has the golden girl been up to these days?"

"Oh it's probably not surprising really, but I'm a professor at Hogwarts now." She states with a hint of pride.

"Yes, so I've read," Millicent admits, and Hermiones feels a spike of something unpleasant in her gut. Not at the other woman but at thought of anyone reading the Daily Prophet about anything having to do with her. "Transfiguration, isn't it?"

A nod.

"Ha. I take it the old cat managed to persuade you, then?" Millicent quips, casually leaning back and having a sip of her drink.

"Minerva can be quite relentless when she wants to be," Hermione remarks with a chuckle. Truthfully it hadn't taken much at all. Having spent the first couple of years after the war within the bosom of Hogwarts, rebuilding and helping the overly stressed headmistress.

"Minerva? You two really are quite close." The statement thankfully holds no lewd accusation, no malicious intent which Hermione is wholeheartedly grateful for. She cannot count the number of times people have made such disgusting comments especially after finding out about her living at McGonagall manor when Rita Skeeter oh so helpfully outted her to the whole bloody wizarding world.

Not to mention, her 'callous abandonment' of poor, poor Ronald when he 'valiantly' declared his feelings in the heat of the battle. But that's a whole entirely different can of nettles...PS. Thank you, Molly Weasley, for letting everybody know that tidbit of information.

Things only became worse when her position at Hogwarts was announced because apparently the only way a muggleborn woman can achieve greatness is by spreading her legs.

_Bastards_

Minerva was/is like a mother to her.

"Oh but now you must tell me," There's a mischievous lilt to Millicent's voice along with a twinkle in dark eyes, yanking Hermione back to the present. "Ro and McGonagall; have they?" It trails off.

Hermione chokes on her drink, face twisting in angst. Just the mere thought. Ew! Also, Minerva will soon rather strangle the womanizer and them for that matter if she even heard of such a thing. "Morgana's tits, no!"

Heads snap around when a boisterous laugh erupts.


End file.
